


Late Delivery

by Silential



Series: Packages [2]
Category: Dead Fish (2005), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, lingerie fetish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted scenes from Packages verse, wherein each chapter is a different slice. From Packages: the postal service has been delivering Danny’s packages to Belle, his neighbor. That would be fine, if it wasn’t the one thing he was trying to hide. (As in, Danny has a lingerie fetish.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collect on Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Packages ‘verse. Danny is chafing because after work has kept her away, Belle surprises him with a quickie that has forced him to go commando. The discomfort is nothing though, because he knows his panties are with Belle.
> 
> This takes place approximately TWO YEARS AFTER Signature Confirmation.

He’d been arguing with the fucker for twenty minutes, shouting in the man’s face and nearly on his toes in every attempt to get one more inch on the fucking brute, but at least it hadn’t been for naught. He’d gotten what he was fucking owed, ten thousand pound to be exact, and had fallen into the familiar, flamboyant embrace of the Parrot feeling keyed up and twitchy. His options consisted of a drink or a nice yell at some bloke what deserved it, and he was deciding between the two when the doors opened again.

Expecting one of the girls or a bouncer to come through, it was Belle who sauntered into his office, turning the lock on the swinging doors before he could even say hello. It wasn’t the first time she’d visited the club, and he had barely a second to register surprise. Work had kept her almost around the clock the past couple weeks, a massive donation of old books from some posh fucker having come in, so even though they lived together and he worked from home more often he’d seen less of her than before. It fucking made him sad alright, but work was fucking work, and he looked forward each night to slipping around her in the warmth of their bed around one or two.

This though, this was unexpected, and so, so appreciated.

If he hadn’t known what was about to happen from the way she entered, purposeful and without her usual smile, her next word made it only too clear.

“Present.”

He knew the look in her eyes, the one that said the calm stone of her face was all fucking for show and she burned just as hot as he did underneath. It had been his request that she be firmer some times more than others, that she file off the soft edges to her comments, her commands. If Belle had had her way, she probably would do everything with a smile and a gentle touch, and while he liked being her favorite toy, her precious love while she took him up the arse, sometimes he wanted something… tougher.

Without even having to think twice, he stood as soon as she drew near his desk, his left hand gripping right wrist behind his back and eyes downcast like a good boy. She fucking meant business, and his every nerve came to life. Maybe he was like a dog with that Pavlovian shite, but feeling the brand of her stare raking across his chest as he humbly stood before her had heat pooling in his belly.

She had her four inch heels on today, camel colored strappy things he’d fallen to the floor and lavished with kisses more times than he could count in the two years of their relationship. Danny wondered if she’d have him do so again, before he reminded himself that it wasn’t his place to fucking wonder, even if he longed to be at her feet.

Now beside him, he watched as she slowly rucked up her long skirt, one hand slipping beneath the teasing layer of cloth to stroke herself just out of his line of sight. He loved it when she did this, often making him beg to see her touch herself, slow and sweet as her fingers stretched open her pussy to his hungry gaze. Normally he was kneeling on the floor several feet away, but his favorite times were when she’d order him closer, his nose almost in her curls and full of the heady scent of her desire. She’d forbid him from touching or licking the sweetness right fucking in front of him, letting him watch as she brought herself close to climax only to stop again and again. He’d moan and whimper, begging her to let her sissy boy please her, until she finally took pity on him and allowed him to taste.

It didn’t seem like this was to be one of those times, especially when the hand beneath her skirt reappeared. Her index and middle fingers glistened, and one delicate finger on her other hand tipped his chin upwards to meet her gaze. The fingers what had been beneath her skirt ghosted over his lips, leaving her juices in their wake, and when she whispered “Suck,” he parted them gratefully and licked her clean.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes, mistress.”

The taste of her, combined with the stickiness still on his lips he couldn’t wait to lick off, had him hardening, imagining what his Goddess must fucking look like under that skirt. Whatever she’d been doing, she was already ready, and the memory of her slippery folds against his tongue, fingers, cock was fucking maddening.

She took back her hand after he’d swept off her taste, gaze raking down the red-purple suit he’d donned that night. Leaning back against his desk, half-propped on it, she said, “Drop your trousers.”

He rushed to do as she asked, unbuttoning quickly and allowing the fabric to puddle around his feet. Although he hadn’t expected her to see them that day, he’d worn one of her favorite pairs as a pleasant reminder while she was away, and he didn’t miss the way her mouth opened at the sight. She enjoyed how the black satin hugged his cock when he was hard, and there were times she forbade him removing them, content to straddle him and rock against the smooth material until he came. His erection strained against them now, almost fully hard, and all it took was her laugh to have him the rest of the way.

“This is what you wear to work? These are slut panties. With these on, you should be up on that stage,” she said, tracing over his shaft with two fingers, and oh fucking Christ her words had him twitching under her fingertips. “I’d slip twenties right into here,” she slipped her hand below his waistband, trailing through the hair under his navel, “and when I’d seen enough of my sissy boy, I’d take you back here and fuck you like the slut you are. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d enjoy it.”

A moan left his mouth, and he fought to keep his hips still or else she would stop touching, stop talking. “Oh god yes, I’d enjoy that so fucking much.”

“Would you beg me to take you?” She whispered. “Bend you right over your desk?”

He could only nod, feeling like his brain had shut down on all words. Her rough language and the fantasy she painted, one of the ones he’d suppressed for so long and only recently confided to her, had him trembling, and she rubbed against the wet spot that was quickly forming near his head.

“What’s this – precum?” Her breath was coming faster too, in time with his. “Wouldn’t have thought a sissy cock like yours could make any.”

The statement had his muscles tightening low in his gut, and he’d ceased trying to analyze why her insulting his prowess, his size only served to make him harder. She didn’t mean any of it, but the rich burn of shame that frothed inside his belly was too sweet to give up. “Let me please you, mistress. Please let me please you.”

“Have you been good while I’ve been busy?”

He swallowed, remembering days of waking up with his prick as hard as a fucking rock. “Yes. I didn’t touch myself this week.”

“Good boy.”

Relief flooding inside him at the words, Danny was about to sink to his knees so he could lap at her pussy when she stopped him. Instead, she tugged the satin down his thighs, allowing his cock to spring free and bob between them. Her tongue, so delicious and how he loved to suck on it, came out to wet her lips as she appraised him, nimbly drawing her skirt upwards. There were a thousand different amazing things that could happen, and he would follow wherever she led.

Pulling him into the cradle of her thighs, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, hooking her ankles above his arse. Her heels pressed into his lower back, her hands threading into his hair, and it was those two things, what she called the fucking reins, that had him nearly coming undone. Her murmur was soft in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me right here on your desk, Danny. You’re close, yeah?”

He could only nod vigorously, pressing his nose into the hair at her temple and breathing in. A groan rumbled low in his throat as she took hold of his cock to sweep his head through the wetness of her pussy. She wasn’t wearing a fucking thing under the skirt.

One hand lining them up, her heels at the base of his spine pressed them slowly together, and his muscles shook at the effort of obeying the agonizingly slow entrance she wanted. The pressure let up after a second, leaving him with only the flare of his head inside, and she was so fucking deliciously tight and fluttering around him. They loved to experiment, with anything and everything, and they’d done nothing more than this with little thrusts and movements of her inner muscles to see if it was enough for him to come. It had been, and that was at a time he hadn’t foregone for so long.

Stopping now had him almost choking, but the way her nails bit into the back of his neck revealed it was just as difficult for her. “G-good boy,” she shakily murmured, pressing a needy kiss to the side of his neck, and he could have praised fucking Christ to feel her heels pushing against him again.

He slid the rest of the way in easily, relishing the cry that left her mouth as their hips met. If she’d been ready before she was dripping now, and as he pulled out only to push back in, Belle was a feast for the senses. Feeling her around him while the obscene, perfect sound of flesh meeting flesh melded with her breathy moans had him hurtling towards climax, and he fought to stave off the tightening in his gut.

“I missed you,” Belle said in his ear, a particularly good thrust turning it into a hiss. “I had so many plans to tease you for longer but I missed this, baby.”

“I did too, Belle. You have no idea.”

A laugh tore from her mouth at that, and she gripped him harder as her heels encouraged him to change his angle. “Next time this happens you’re coming to the Archives with me. I’ll keep you under my desk and you can lick my pussy and make me come whenever I need it.”

The idea had him shuddering, and it wasn’t helping the fucking battle going on in his balls. Her hand had left his hair to wriggle between their bodies, and while it meant softening his thrusts so as not to crush her fingers, he couldn’t have been happier. He never kissed her on the mouth unless she invited him to, which was often enough that he never felt neglected, but the moment had him panting and leaving tiny kisses against her temple.

When her walls began to contract, he was right there fucking moaning with her, his eyes snapping shut at the stream of come on, baby, come for me, baby in his ear. Brilliant lights bloomed behind his eyes as he felt his balls draw up, and he thanked Christ she was on the fucking pill so they didn’t have to worry. They shook together, his arms leaving her hips to wrap tightly around her, crushing her to his chest as she milked him of everything he had.

Belle was chuckling into his neck, gasping for breath like him, and he knew it was because she thought the face he made when he came was funny. He laughed too, boneless and still twitching inside her with little aftershocks, and couldn’t help but think that when she fell over that edge, she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, her hands petting his hair and running over his back in soothing sweeps, murmurs of love you whispered into kisses, until she unhooked her legs from around his waist. He had since slipped out of her, soft against her thighs, and she stretched languorously as he stepped back from the desk.

“I’ll be taking those,” she said, and it took him a moment to realize she was pointing at the panties that had fallen around his feet.

Halfway between surprised and confused, he struggled to kick off his pants while his shoes were still on, which everyone fucking knew was an Herculean feat. “But why?”

“Because I didn’t bring any of my own, and I want to wear yours.” She grinned, hopping off his desk and smoothing down her skirt. “Plus I have to make it back to the apartment, and I’d rather not be dripping cum the whole way.”

Sputtering a bit, he had to concede the logic of the statement, and couldn’t deny the fact that one of the few things he found hotter than wearing panties was the idea of Belle and he sharing them, especially knowing they still bore some of the marks of what they’d just done.

Underwear handed over and shimmied up her thighs, she’d kissed him nearly senseless before heading for the door, a smile and love you her parting gift before leaving his office.

And that’s why he found himself in a different sort of predicament not ten minutes later.

His suits were cut for flair and style, not comfort, and though he’d never really had cause to curse the way they fucking hugged his balls before, he certainly did now. Every fucking movement had him feeling the fabric chafing against skin what would be sensitive on a good day, but now, felt like every fucking inch was tender in the best way possible. It wasn’t how he’d seen himself spending his night, squirming in his chair and closing his eyes at the memory of not an hour before, but there it fucking was.

He’d be heading home earlier than he’d planned to.

Belle was waiting.


	2. By Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Packages-verse leash!smut. This is set about two to three years in the future.

Although there were several items in their arsenal, more and more every year in fucking fact, the two he’d come to love were nestled way in the back of the drawer.

There were two leashes - Belle’s idea really, but one he’d come to fucking wish they’d thought of sooner.

One went around his neck, hooking onto his collar with a delicious sort of snap that plucked at his balls. With it in place, Danny felt wanted, comfortable, like he belonged, and it made him feel warm and protected. And it was freeing, following where she led, handing over the reins to her in a way he never thought he’d fucking do for any soul on earth. They didn’t do things in public, as they’d agreed from the start, but that didn’t stop them fantasizing about it - which if you fucking asked him was almost as good with none of the downsides.

Belle would talk about how she’d lead him out their door and down the street, he following so obediently behind her. They’d tour around London, with all the world to see - all the world could point and laugh and stare, and know he was, without a fucking doubt, hers. She said she’d take him to the Parrot Club, where she’d tie the leash to something in his office and sit in his chair, kicking up her feet and owning the place in a way that had him fucking shivering. He liked the idea of her ordering everyone else about, cajoling money from people with a soft voice that spoke of the fucking iron underneath.

At one point, and he remembered it clearly and quite fucking fondly like, she had giggled, breaking the gravity of the scene, and said how she’d probably have to call over every five minutes for what to do because she had no idea how to do his job. 

That was fucking fair, because he certainly had no idea how to do hers.

The other leash was very thin, attached to a cock ring she’d often tease was too big for the sissy thing hanging between his fucking legs. It sat snug at the base of his cock, keeping him hard longer, and though she led him around by it as she would the neck, the results couldn’t have been more fucking different.

This way drove him wild – it itched under his skin, inflaming where the leash on his neck was calming. It was humiliating, and it made him feel like a piece of meat. He was her piece of meat and she could do whatever the fuck she wanted with his cock, his body, him. 

A gentle tug on his neck told him he was wanted. 

A gentle tug on his cock told him he was owned.


	3. Aspect Ratio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny experiments with nylon hose. Takes place after Restricted Matter, Part 1

The thing somewhere between a box and some kind of pouch, all hard and cheap cardboard, was light in his hands.

He hadn’t even bothered ordering these online. More than fucking likely, it would have went to Belle’s place anyway, or worse yet, that fucking twat that lived below him, and just because the Post may have fucking improved his life with its utter inattention to details like names and addresses, didn’t mean he fucking wanted it to ruin the surprise. Belle wanted to see him like this and he wanted to be fucking good, fucking smooth as fucking butter like, and he had a feeling like in all things, there was going to be a learning curve.

Practice made perfect and all that shite, yeah? Yeah.

Snorting to himself, Danny wasted no time in ripping open the packaging, unsure how he felt about the smiling, nearly nude woman on the front. She looked fucking happy to be wearing them, but as he fought to extract the cardboard insert from the sheer nylon, he wasn’t so sure he’d feel the same. Oh sure the idea excited him – was fucking exciting him if the fucking obvious bulge in his panties was any indication – but the practicality of it seemed a bit more fucking tenuous.

Each delicate tube felt like it could barely contain his arm much less his leg, and he didn’t quite fucking know at the store what size to buy, now did he? There was a height guide on the back he’d roughly followed, but he knew fuck all about matching a woman’s measurements to his own when it came to things like hips and thighs. He was a wee fucker, but his hips were still a man’s despite the fact that they were usually covered by lace, and he remembered one of the girls giggling about his toothpick thighs when she thought he couldn’t hear.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, lamp on overhead and door closed to reveal the mirror on the back, Danny realized he had no fucking clue how to start. Oh fucking sure he’d seen women do it, in movies and TV and after he’d finished with a higher class prostitute, but it was a bit fucking different to be doing it himself. They usually balled them up and stuck their feet through, yeah?

Bending double, and wasn’t this fucking uncomfortable and he hadn’t even gotten the fucking things on yet, he scrunched his fingers through the slippery, cool material to gather it clumsily between thumb and index. Starting at his toes, with a little bit of doing he could release the material and inch it along, letting the smooth as silk dark fabric caress his skin. The position put pressure against his cock, seemingly thickening with every few inches he rose up his leg, and the way it was pinned between his belly and thigh oscillated between pleasurable and aching.

He managed to get to his mid-calf before he hit his first snag, the material no longer giving in quite the way it was a moment before. It took some pulling and readjusting, no thanks to the nylon which resisted every attempt to right it, but he managed to continue eventually. He made it to just above his knee when Danny figured he should probably worry about the other leg before he ripped the hose, and bent further to repeat the process.

This leg went easier in a way, he kind of already fucking knew what to do, but the give in the nylon was less as the leg already encased pulled the fabric. When he got to about the same place he’d stopped on the other one, he figured it was probably time to stand, since there was no way he was fucking managing it sitting.

His legs bound effectively at the knee, he almost fell over when he rose from the bed, and if he wasn’t such a spritely fucker he definitely would have found himself with a face full of carpet – not the one he fucking liked either mind. Standing helped some, even if it meant again going nearly double, and with some difficulty he managed to bring them to his upper thighs.

The outline of his aching prick clear against the lace, Danny had to pause. This was the part he’d been dreading and anticipating since he’d begun, wondering how sweet and throbbing the compression would feel once he managed to work the nylon over the rather sizable (if he did fucking say so) bulge before him. It might make it look smaller, press against his balls and his shaft alike, and a shiver raced down his spine at the thought of Belle seeing him like this – seeing her sissy boy getting ready for her, putting on his panties and hose for her.

He hoped she’d fucking enjoy it, because despite the drawbacks, he already was.

In an ironic twist of fate, drawing the material slowly and a little awkwardly upwards was one of the few times he tried to avoid jostling his bits. The nylon fit snugly, somewhere between a caress and a vice on his parts depending if you were talking about his balls or not. A little bit of shifting and pulling at the seam alleviated the problem somewhat, if not perfectly. In the end it didn’t fucking matter because the sight of the dark purple lace, muted and smoky through the black nylon, and the way his cock was simultaneously squeezed and highlighted had blood rushing from his head.

In his mind’s eye he imagined Belle seeing him, trailing her fingertips over his thighs and his ass or having him lay, spread out and open, on the bed. She’d palm his cock, and here his hand itched to mimic the motion, and tell him that was where it belonged, bound up in nylon and lace and away from his touch until she decided otherwise. The thought had him nearly trembling, and as tempted as he was, he forced his hands to his sides.

He’d never felt quite so fucking apart from society’s definition of a man before, but the dissonance between that definition and his assertion of his own fucking brand of masculinity bothered him less than it usually did. This was a whole new fucking level, a sort of dangerous and sinfully fucking delicious addition to the lace he’d worn for years. Hose would never be his main thing by any means, but as a way to explore, to get further into character and into subspace, he could really fucking run with this.

Suddenly he almost regretted not waiting to try this first with Belle.

He couldn’t help but slide his hands wonderingly over his thighs, the cool unbroken smoothness unfamiliar and exciting. While he wasn’t a hairy man by any means, the effect was unlike anything he’d felt before, and the question of what it would feel like without any sort of roughness underneath crossed his mind. If he’d have thought something like that as little as eight fucking months ago, he would have spent his night diving into a bottle, resisting the urge to take his prick in hand until it got to be too much. But now, now he waved as the thought stole by, and mentally made a note to bring it up with Belle someday.

One hand lingering on his hip as the other lightly rubbed his cock – lightly, because he hadn’t asked to come and Belle wouldn’t see his text for permission that night – Danny figured the venture was largely a success. Later sure, he’d notice the run over his left heel, and the grooves left from the seam in the most random of fucking places, but for now –

It was fucking alright.


End file.
